


To Bring the Stars Closer

by Eggling



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: M/M, implied season 6b, written as a Christmassy fic but it has nothing to do with Christmas until the very end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 06:09:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9870878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eggling/pseuds/Eggling
Summary: Jamie, the Doctor, and the alignment of two moons.





	

“Here we are!” The Doctor stumbled slightly as he strode up the hill, attempting to balance a painted pottery mug filled to the brim in each hand. Leaning over, he passed one to Jamie before settling himself against the trunk of the tree Jamie had been jealously guarding for the past fifteen minutes.

“What took ye so long?” Jamie half-shouted over the noise. They were seated atop a small rise, separated from the bustling field below, but even so it was impossible to escape the noise drifting up from the festival. Tents and stalls stretched away below them towards the horizon, rendered uneven by the dark shapes of treetops. Lights and garlands were strung between the roofs, and the spaces between them seethed with the planet’s inhabitants – strange, tall, blue-furred creatures with long ears and bright orange striped. The leaves above them were lit with floating orbs glowing golden against the sky, little stars in themselves, their warmth seeming to reach the dark heavens themselves and bring them closer. Even what passed for grass was alight – bioluminescence, the Doctor had called it, before plucking a particularly bright stalk and handing it to Jamie. “The strand in question was still casting a light through the fabric of his shirt pocket.

The Doctor simply gestured out at the crowds below. “What do you think? Every stall I went to was packed.” He sipped at his drink, and Jamie cautiously did the same. He was unsure what to expect – the memory of the Doctor’s previous suggestion of an alien dish was still fresh in his mind, an odd, sticky mass tasting like a combination of cucumber, cherries, and something distinctly bitter. To his delight, however, the drink was spicy and deliciously cool against the warm night.

“You know,” the Doctor said, shifting around the tree trunk so he and Jamie were sitting shoulder to shoulder, “on this world, they have a story about two stars who looked across the blackness of space, past all the other stars in the sky, and saw each other.”

“Och, I thought ye said they were moons. And stars cannae see each other, anyway. I know that much, at least.”

“Just enjoy the story,” the Doctor scolded him gently, reaching up to ruffle his hair and making Jamie duck away in embarrassment. After a moment, however, he stilled, letting the Doctor’s hand settle onto his head, stroking his hair, and he leaned in with a sigh of contentment. “You know more than you give yourself credit for, you know.” He let his hand fall to Jamie’s shoulder, tugging him closer. “One of the stars looked across at the other, and thought to itself, _if only I could shine as brightly as that_. Little did it know that the other was thinking precisely the same thing.”

“What’s that got tae do with the moons?” Jamie pressed.

“Do you want to hear this story, or not?” the Doctor grumbled, and Jamie laughed, settling himself more comfortably against the Doctor’s side.

“Go on, then.”

“Years passed, and eventually a god became jealous of the stars’ love for each other. So he cursed them, turned them into moons so they wouldn’t shine so brightly. But they ended up together anyway, orbiting this planet.”

Jamie sat in silence for a moment. “I know what you’re going tae say, ye know. You’re going tae say ‘if we were stars’ -”

“Shh,” the Doctor interrupted him. “The moons are coming into alignment.”

The buzz of chatter and laughter slowly died away as every one of the thousands present turned to face the sky. The smaller moon, tinged green around the edges, was slowly sliding into position, moving towards the centre of a circular hole in the planet’s dusky rings. The other moon was closer to the planet, glowing red and moving far more quickly. Jamie leant over to rest his head against the Doctor’s shoulder so the scene before him was spread out like a painting, the people gazing up at the celestial spectacle which seemed so close and yet infinitely far away, distant and cold.

Just as the first moon slipped into position, the other followed, two dark silhouettes merging into one. They seemed framed by a halo of light, dancing around them in endless, swirling patterns. The Doctor had explained it to him, how the moons’ circlet was caused by light reflection off the dust and ice and rocks in the rings, but on a night like this, to Jamie it still seemed like magic. At the precise moment the moons lined up, a great cheer rose up from the field, and time seemed to stand still. It was as if the universe was frozen, shrinking, non-existent outside of the lights above and below, and the solid comfort of the Doctor beside him.

It took Jamie some time to realise that the moons had shifted apart again, one pushing past the other and out of the circle. “And it’s over,” the Doctor announced, sounding quite content, far from Jamie’s own slight sadness.

“How often do they line up like that?” Jamie asked.

“In Earth terms, once in every four years and seven days,” the Doctor replied absently. “The inhabitants of this planet only live for two years, on average, so having a Festival of the Moon in one’s lifetime is considered lucky.”

Two years. Jamie wondered how many billions of these creatures had lived and died whilst the moons had continued their inexorable cycle, how many had looked up at a sky just like this. He himself, with his relatively long lifespan, suddenly seemed very small compared to the rest of the universe, to what these creatures saw and accomplished in their lives. He wondered if this was how the Doctor felt.

“And they’ll just keep going round forever,” he murmured to himself.

“Not forever,” the Doctor corrected, seemingly oblivious to Jamie’s thoughts. “This system’s star will expand in a few billion years, swallow up the moons and this planet, and then contract and die. Nothing lasts forever.” He smiled to himself. “But it’s a nice story.”

“But they’ll be there for a long time.” Once more, Jamie looked up at the wheel of dust, the moons gradually separating again. “They’ll be together.”

“You said something about us being stars,” the Doctor prompted.

Jamie grinned. “I thought you’d say that if we were stars...” He trailed off, aware of how ridiculous his thoughts sounded. “I thought maybe you’d like that to be us.”

“Forever chasing each other, only together for a few brief moments?” The Doctor shook his head. “I think the universe has been rather kinder to us than that, of late. But if you must know, I’d like to think of us as binary stars, in orbit around each other.”

“Wee daftie.” Jamie leant over to kiss the Doctor’s cheek, feeling a rush of affection as the Doctor’s smile grew brighter.

“Merry Christmas, Jamie.”

“It’s no’ Christmas,” Jamie said, frowning in confusion.

“Well...” The Doctor blustered for a moment, clearly trying to think of a suitable answer. “It can be Christmas whenever I like!”

Jamie considered this for a moment. Christmas to him had always meant cold, biting winds and snow, not the balmy warmth of this field. And yet there was something about the happiness of the place, the softly glowing golden lights. The feeling of family that always came with the Doctor’s presence, however lost or endangered they were. “Merry Christmas,” he said softly.

The Doctor simply smiled and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll take you to a proper Christmas,” he murmured. “There’s a planet where it’s _always_ Christmas, regardless of what time of year it is.”

Remembering the beauty of the moons, the joy of the people around them, the little blade of grass still glowing in his pocket, Jamie shook his head. “It’s perfect just here.”


End file.
